


The Bounty

by Snows_Echo



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Blood and Violence, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Romance, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Western, smut with story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snows_Echo/pseuds/Snows_Echo
Summary: A notorious bounty hunter crosses paths with Arthur Morgan of the infamous Van der Linde Gang. He's got a price on his head, and she's willing to bite.Based off events in game as well as original plot ideas.**UPDATED WEEKLY!**





	1. Chapter 1

The hardware on my horse’s saddle and reins jingled, the hollow rhythm of his plodding hooves on the packed dirt road. The sun was getting low, dipping past the cliffs, painting the sky pink and gold as I turned off the road and into the grasslands. I could smell the campfire on the wind and a sly grin crossed my face as I narrowed in on my prey. My heart thundered with excitement as I crested the hills outside of Valentine, in the vast prairie of the Heartlands. Off in the distance, a flickering campfire under some oaks. A guitar and laughing floated on the wind. My eyes narrowed. I gave Tucson a firm pat on his neck and then a kick as we loped down the hills into the flats. I pulled my .44 caliber Henry rifle, cranking on the lever action, a bullet sliding into the recently oiled chamber. These bastards were mine now.   
I kicked Tucson harder and he surged into a sprint as I held up Old Reliable and took aim at the camp. In my cross hairs, Sam Landon—Randal Buchanan’s right-hand man—and he was wearing the victim’s hat, an Ace still in the brim’s band... A lawman’s hat. I was close enough to shoot by the time they noticed me and moved to stand. The first shot found its mark right into poor Landon’s forehead. I cranked the lever action once more and placed another bullet into another one of Buchanan’s men. Two more cranks—another man down—another crank, and another man slumped to the dust. Out of bullets I tossed my rifle to the ground and swung a leg over the horn of the saddle. Pulling my colt revolving from my hip, I leaped out of the saddle and took cover from behind one of the oaks as bullets rang out from Buchanan’s remaining men. I peeked around the trunk to see only three more men left and exhaled, firing twice into the chest of one and returning to the cover as bullets whizzed past my head. I shot from the other side of the tree, squeezing the trigger with much ease—the bullets finding their mark. Now it was just me, the body guard, and Buchanan. I stepped out from the cover and fanning my revolver, stuck the remainder of the bullets into the last guard. Randal was on the ground, crawling backwards, a bloody patch over his right eye. He shot his pistol, the bullet not at all close to my person. Cussing—he threw the entire pistol at me, which took ease to avoid. His chest heaved as he braced his back against an old stump. His eye frantically darted to all of his dead and dying men, blood soaking the campsite.   
“Bitch!” He spat.   
I strode to him, slowly, popping the cylinder in my revolver, spinning the spent casings free. They jangled to the ground in an almost musical fashion. Buchanan eyed me—watched with fear and horror and anger as I took one bullet from my belt and placed it into the chamber and slapped the cylinder shut. “Yeah, I may be a bitch, but I didn’t rape and slaughter my way across Hanover, ain’t that right, Mr. Buchanan?” I smirked as I watched his face glow ghostly white. “Mmm hmm, thought so.” I pulled the hammer back and aimed it. “Bounty states dead or alive,” I grabbed the folded poster from my pocket, tossing it to his lap. “One hell of a bad day for you.” I said as his fingers shook to open the poster.   
“This ain’t me!” Why do they always try to reason…every single time. “This feller has two eyes!”   
I hung my head—having no time for a wanted man’s bullshit. “And I see your right eye is quite fresh ain’t it—from when you took that whip in the eye from the law in Lemoyne.” His face finally sagged. “It’s over Buchanan—you and your men are done.”   
Now the tears—there were usually tears as my dead or alive bounties came to terms that it was much easier to collect a bounty that wasn’t kickin’ and fightin’ the entire way to the jailhouse. “You’re a witch!” He snarled.   
“No, mister. I’m god damn Alice Cassidy.”


	2. Chapter 2

My dusty boots rested on the seat across from me at my table in the livestock town of Valentine. The cool beer bottle pressed to my lips was heavenly in this unusually hot evening. The alcohol wetted my dry throat after breathing in so much dust this town created, besides that, chasing outlaws, thieves, bandits, cattle rustlers—it was thirsty work. I was positioned in the same spot I always took in any saloon—back to the corner. I pulled my flat brim hat over my forehead just a little more as I kept one eye on the room, the other on the newspaper in front of me. Taking a swig from my bottle I turned the page and nearly spat my drink out to the picture I saw in the paper. It—it was me. Wonderful. The newspaper stands must be itchin to make their mark in the country—and now thanks to them—my whole damn career and head was on the line. ‘BOUNTY HUNTER ALICE CASSIDY ENDS BUCCHANAN GANG’ and how kind of them—a fuckin’ sketch. Well shit. Looks like I can’t stay in this shit hole any longer—and on my way out I’d be making a stop to the newspaper stand. I chugged what was left of my beer and moved to get up when two men stepped through those swingin’ doors and into the lively saloon.  
I eased back down into my seat and adjusted my hat. They were large men and armed to the teeth. Dusty boots and worn clothes. One was dumb and loud—easily led upstairs by one of the prostitutes—the other, quiet, calm. I watched as he bellied up to the bar, ordering a whiskey. He had about a week or two’s worth of scruff on his face—a face that told many to keep their distance. I looked towards the window as he picked his head back up—not wanting to get caught. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as he ordered another whiskey before taking a place at the poker table. I decided to be patient and watch, trying to figure out who this was. He was cautious, but sarcastic at the same time—drawing enough attention in a crowded saloon, but not so much as to have people question. Many might say he was a cow hand…but I knew this type.  
A few hands in, many in the saloon were drunk beyond reason. The man’s associate stumbled to the stairs railing, shirtless, and a prostitute trying to lure him back to her chambers. “Hey, Morgan!” He shouted down to his friend. “You gotta come up and sample some of these goods!” Another prostitute sided up to him, leaning on his shoulder, batting her eye lashes—hoping for a good pay day.  
“Not now, Bill! You fool!”  
Morgan—a last name. Bill stumbled back up the steps and out of sight while this man—Morgan finished another hand—he was good, and yet again, not so much to draw unwanted attention. He was brooding, man that liked keeping his identity, didn’t like attention…and for me—these were the men that always had a picture on a poster. Then it dawned on me—“Son of a bitch.” I hissed under my breath. It was Arthur Fucking Morgan from the god damn Van der Linde Gang of Blackwater. That man upstairs—Bill….Bill Williamson! I’d seen their posters in Blackwater a month past. Oh God the pay day on them.  
The game at last ended and I watched as he strode down the halls of the saloon to the back, probably to relieve himself. I stood at once, kicking my chair in and followed him down the way. He had a few drinks but that was some time ago. I could try to get the drop on him or I could seduce him… but seeing how little attention he gave the prostitutes in there…I had only one option. I shoved the back door open looking left and right to not see him in sight. I checked to make sure Bill wasn’t going to tail me and turned right towards the back of the saloon. Sure enough there he was, pissing on the building. I was quiet as I picked my way through the grass and pulled my revolver from its holster. Once behind him I cocked the hammer, the muzzle inches from his head. “Arthur Morgan of the Vin der Linde Gang.” He tensed. Those broad shoulders rippling as he straightened.  
“What do you want?” He said still facing the wall. Oh good. No pleas, no tears…finally, some dignity.  
“I’ve come to collect your bounty. Place your hands behind your back.”  
“Can I at least finish my piss?” He growled.  
“Fine.” Make it quick. Just then a large crash sounded. I spun away from the shards of glass that fell from the windows above. A boot careening through the air as a prostitute screamed “Never in my life! Shame on you! And I’m a painted cat! Get the hell outta here!” Both Arthur and I were startled by the commotion, as well as quick on the draw, and we stood his draw a hair faster.  
“Put the gun down, Miss.”  
“Like hell I will.” I laughed.  
“I don’t want to kill ya, but I will if I have to.” I bore my teeth in frustration and threw down my pistol. “Son of a bitch.”  
He had a peculiar look on his face, like he was studying me. My ash blond hair, my blue eyes under the brim of my hat. My revolver with the pearl grip. The .44 slung on my back. My youthfulness. The fact that I was a young woman-bounty hunter.  
His voice was deep and rough sounding as he spoke. “Do you think it’s wise, a single young woman bounty hunting with no back up?”  
I smirked, hands still up. “I’ve taken down plenty in my short time on this earth, single handedly at that.”  
His eyes narrowed. “Wait a second. I know you.”  
My throat bobbed. That god damn newspaper.  
“You’re that Alice Cassidy. Oh lord, I know many people that would love to meet you.”  
I hacked and spat at his face before smiling sweetly again.  
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” He growled, wiping the spit off his face, and marched towards me. Gripping my arm, he led me to his horse on the side of the saloon and took his lasso from the saddle. Arthur bound my hands and set me on the saddle, swinging a leg over after.  
“What about dear ole Bill?” I simpered.  
“What about him—he knows where home is. Now shut the fuck up.”  
Shit. I was in a bad spot, but I’ve been in worse—that is why I got into this business.  
“Where are we going?” I asked as Arthur turned his rose grey Andalusian away from the hitch.  
“To the wolf’s den.”


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur Morgan rode hard, but thankfully I didn’t bounce right out of the saddle. I had been lucky enough that we rode by Tucson, my big, blue roan Nakota, and whistled for him to follow. From time to time I was able to glance around Arthur to see my pistol in his left holster, the pearl grip glistening in the moonlight that beat down upon us. We rode into a glen of trees not too far from Valentine, along the ridge. “Who’s there?!” A man called out.   
“It’s Arthur!”   
“Where’s Bill?”   
“Send Lenny to go pick him up at the Saloon in Valentine.”   
We were here. Firelight warmed the shadows of the forest. As we inched closer and closer to the glow of the firelight my throat tightened a bit each more.   
“Look Arthur’s ba—who’s that?”   
At once I had twenty people eyeballing me. Arthur tugged me off the horse and pulled me towards a tree on the edge of camp, whispers following me.   
“Who is she?” they all said.   
The moment Arthur cut my binds to retie me to the tree I was fighting. I drew my knife and sliced for this throat a wicked grin on my face. “Bastard!” I ground my teeth. The blade caught his arm, but not enough to do any real damage. He caught my wrist in his vice-like grip, breaking the knife from my hands. “Are you done?!” He growled close to my face. I threw my head forward, crashing my skull into his, sending him reeling back. I picked up my knife when over fifteen guns lifted towards me. A shot was fired into the sky, crashing like thunder. I watched with chilled blood as the gang parted to let Dutch Van der Linde himself step through the crowd, a pistol aimed at my chest.  
“Miss, if I were you, I’d drop that knife.” He spoke articulately, a deadly calm. I glanced around, everyone’s eyes locked on me as well as their sights. I was truly within a den of wolves. With a snarl I threw the knife down and backed up until I was against the tree, arms around the slender trunk.   
“Charles. If you would.” Dutch spoke and a man of color strode forward. I couldn’t tell if he was Indian or Negro, but his features were stunning and his hands, surprisingly gentle as he wound the rope around my wrists. As he returned to the group my eyes re-fixed on Dutch Van der Linde. His hair slicked back, his clothes fine, his eyes—cunning, very cunning. There were gears turning in his mind. This was a man who was dangerous by the mind. But I could tell right off—Mr. Dutch Van der Linde liked to make deals. And it was precisely at this moment that he thought on the deal he was willing to offer me.   
Once in binds again many cleared out, leaving just the gunmen in camp. “So, Miss—” Dutch started.   
“Cassidy.” Arthur cut in, massaging his forehead. “Alice Cassidy.”   
Dutch rose his brows. “Well, a mighty bind you’ve gotten yourself in Miss Alice Cassidy.”  
“Been in worse.” I growled.   
“Oh, I doubt that.” A man with long blond hair cut in. Leaning forward to get a better look at me.  
“Fuck you.” I spat.   
“Shut up, Micah.” Several seemed to say in chorus and the man, Micah, fell back into line.  
“How did she come to be here with the Van der Linde Gang, Arthur?”   
“She pulled a gun on me outside the saloon.”   
Dutch laughed, “Just you? All by yourself?” He looked at me. “Well she’s got grit. I give her that.”   
“Dutch, she’s the bounty hunter that took out Buchanan’s men—single handedly.”   
“That was you Miss Cassidy?”  
I smiled, “Gave him another hole in the head to match the right eye.”   
The group of men chuckled. “Whitty too.”   
“Bet Arthur likes that.”   
“Shut up, Uncle.” Arthur growled.   
“So, Miss Cassidy. As a bounty hunter, and now,” Dutch clears his throat, “knowing our location. We can’t just let you go now.”   
I nodded. “So, you’re gonna kill me then.”   
“Well, that doesn’t have to be an option.” I rose my eyes to Dutch Van der Linde’s. “You see we have need for useful, resourceful, and self-sufficient individuals, much like yourself.”   
“You’re inviting me to an outlaw?” I scoffed.   
“Tell me, Alice, when was the last time you had someone to watch your back? When was the last time you had a family, hmm? It’s gotta be a rough life out there—a young woman, all by yourself?” I hung my head as memories of my dead family flooded my mind. Images of blood and broken glass. The faint smell of gun smoke as the memory haunted me. The pain I felt both mentally and physically as I crawled away from my burning house…a burning grave for the rest of my family. It was saloon to saloon, bounty to bounty. Trips to the wild and trips back to the jail house. Guns pointed at me—the thought of dying all alone.   
“You don’t have to make a decision right now, but those are your options.”   
Death or becoming an outlaw.   
“Miss Grimshaw, have one of your girls bring Miss Cassidy some dinner.”   
Dutch pushed his hair back, taking one last look at me before walking off with all of the men, except for Mr. Morgan. I wriggled my way down to the grass and leaned my head back, staring back at Arthur. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to punch me or feel sorry for me. But after a second, he strode off to join his men at the fire and I was left with a moral spot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning

Those memories haunted me in my sleep. The metallic tang of blood. Shadows. Gun powder. Salty tears. Smoke and fire. My hands were bloody, cut clean open by the men that stalked our farm that night. The men who’d taken advantage of me and left me for dead after slitting my mama’s throat and putting a bullet in both my pa and older brother. Crawling across the wooden floor of the house while it came apart in flames. I crawled through all of their blood and made my way to Tucson, barley able to pull myself to his back. The memory faded to being found outside of Rhodes, slumped over on my horse, covered in blood.   
I jolted awake when hands clasped around my jaw. I stared straight up at Micah, my face contorting in rage. “You be quiet now.” He said placing a hand over my mouth as he tried to pull his belt free. Hot, roiling rage burned a hole through me like bullet and I clamped down on his hand. He yowled in pain, blood gushing from his hand. I spat the chunk of his hand out at him, my mouth covered in his blood. “You bitch!”   
“I’ve heard that one before you pig!” I lashed out like a rabid dog. “Stay the fuck away from me!”   
Micah gripped my throat, preparing to throttle me.   
“Aye!”   
My eyes looked to Arthur, whom marched across the camp growing madder by the second as he took in what was unfolding. He gave Micah a hard shove, sending him into the dirt beside me. I gave Micah a hard kick to the head with my boot heel. Micah roared in pain, waking up the entire camp. Arthur's large hands gripped his shirt, hauling him to his feet. “If you touch her again—I’ll put a bullet in ya.”   
“So this bitch walks in and you—”   
“Nope—no more, Micah…git or I’ll dust you up again.” Arthur released his shirt with a deadly glare. Micah looked over his shoulder at me, spitting blood and strode back to his tent.   
“It’s alright. Everyone get back to sleep.” Arthur called out.   
He knelt before me, taking a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped Micah’s blood from my mouth. “Did you get em good?” His voice was gentle, especially given the fact I tried to make him a dead man hours earlier.   
“Not good enough.” My eyes were locked on his, and his blues studied my mouth, my lips that parted.   
“Have you made your decision?” His eyes lifted to mine.   
Micah was the perfect reminder that men like him still resided in this world. And with the law I had a specific jurisdiction…I also had a reputation. I couldn’t do as I wished all the live long day without finding myself on the end of the rope just the same…but as an outlaw…as a gang member, I had better protection. Protection that the law themselves couldn’t provide a bounty hunter, and a working woman at that. Arthur’s eyes focused again on my lips. Lifting a callused thumb to wipe away the remaining blood on my bottom lip.   
I backed away from his touch when it lingered a little too long. “I—I haven’t decided yet.”   
Arthur’s head hung. “Well it is your decision.” He stood and turned away. “Goodnight, Miss Cassidy.” 

I didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night. I watched as the morning sunrise painted the sky a light purple and yellow. Delicate colors that reminded me of the spring in Lemoyne. “I’m sorry for,” Dutch cleared his throat, “Mr. Bell’s indiscretion. I made sure that it would not happen again.” Dutch held a bowl of stew before him but he didn’t eat from it, but knelt before me and offered me a spoonful. I hesitated, glancing between him and the stew. I took a careful bite.   
“It won’t happen again because I’ll either be dead or I’ll kill him.” I said with a mouthful.   
“So you haven’t come to a decision?”   
“No, I have.”   
Dutch’s brows rose. “Will this be good news, Miss Cassidy?”   
“I’ll joint your gang…but tell me Dutch—do you go after other gangs?”   
“If we have to. Usually do anyhow--they become a problem.”   
“I know gangs enough to know that most of them are filled with men like Micah, and I would have already been beaten, raped, and killed by now. The fact that one of yours stopped Micah last night, well, it proves to me that you’re not all like other gangs.”   
Dutch smiled. “This is great news Miss Cassidy.”   
“Oh, hold one second. I have two conditions.”   
Dutch paused.  
“One—I get to go out with y’all, I’m not a homemaker type, I like to work. And second—I get to punch that Micah Bell.”   
A smile crossed Dutch Van der Linde’s face. “Miss Cassidy, you got yourself a deal.”   
“Great, now cut me free so we can shake on it.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Van der Linde Gang was different from most other gangs. They were almost a family—each having a job—there were women and even a child in the camp. Some in the gang were rougher around the edges, some were lighter…having seen far less that the others, and some were the thinkers—Hosea and Dutch. Each person in the Gang had a job, well, unless your name was Uncle who seemed to just laze about all the live long day. The camp was a scatter of tents and wagons on the ledge overlook, my tent more towards the center of camp—I suppose they weren’t wrong for not trusting me yet—and wanted to make sure I had to sneak past all the tents if I was to run and rat. My tent was stationed next to the armory wagon, and Arthur’s tent. I swallowed hard and glanced over my shoulder to the men at the table, playing poker. His laugh echoed through the camp, his voice deep and that drawl— “Excuse me?” A light tap on my shoulder, and I turned to face a woman of the name Sadie Adler. She had a kind voice but her eyes—they were haunted…the very same as my own. I gave her a small smile.   
“Did I hear right that you’re a bounty hunter?”   
“You did miss Adler.”   
“Please,” She smiled, “Call me Sadie.”  
I smiled back. She had something to ask, her mouth trying to form the words to say.   
“Would you like to sit with me, Sadie?” I asked, her yellow skirts flowing in the breeze. She pursed her lips and nodded. 

 

“So, you kill men, for money?” she inquired. We had been perched on the grassy knoll on the overlook outside the camp for half an hour.   
“Not always.” I said, biting into the flesh of an apple.   
“What kind of gun do you carry?”   
I stopped chewing to look at her and smiled. “Miss Sadie Adler, are you trying to kill a man?”   
Her face grew dark, her mouth a fine line. “More like several men.”   
“Who?” I leaned in.   
“The O’Driscoll Gang.”   
“Damn, the whole gang? They’re mighty large. Got more guns than Van der Linde—granted O’ Driscoll’s let anyone join.”   
“Yes, the whole gang.” I looked out over the valley below, taking note of the way the river snaked and wound through the hills, herds of deer and pronghorn grazing. “They murdered my husband.” She broke the silence with a shaking voice. “They stole my life…they took everything from me. My house burned…I have nothing to return to.” Images of my family’s homestead flashed behind my eyes once more. I clamped my eyes shut, forcing the images of blood and flame back, forcing them back down with the rage that boiled to the top with the memories. “They—they took, everything…” Her voice caught in her throat. She took a moment to look over the valley—her face falling into shadow. “And I want to take everything away from them.” Her voice was filled with that same roiling rage I had within myself, her brows furrowed as she looked back to me. I looked into her stormy eyes and saw myself. “I want to kill every single one of ‘em.”   
I turned away taking another bite of my apple. “Do you know how to shoot?”   
“Damn well, better than most of these fools.”   
“You ever kill a man?”   
“I—well—I killed animals.”   
“It’s one in the same, Sadie. Animal—man—there’s no difference.”   
“How many men have you killed, Alice Cassidy?”   
I grabbed the bottle of gin that sat between us and took a draw off the bottle. “Enough, Sadie Adler…Enough.”   
Sadie had grit and most importantly—a focus, and a hateful kind of revenge. “What’s stoppin’ you from going out and putting them all in shallow graves?” I narrowed my eyes on her. “Stop sitting around and go after them. Get yourself a .44 caliber rifle and a pair of pistols and start pickin’ off those son’s a bitches.” She smirked at me—oh she was a wolf on the inside—clawing to get free. I liked this Sadie Adler. “My entire family was murdered many years ago” I started, catching my voice struggling with its strength, “and after I saved enough money waitressin'—I bought me a rifle—and I hunted down those animals that ruined me. One at a time.” Sadie followed my gaze as I glanced over my shoulder at Dutch. “Sadie, have you ever heard that the enemy of thine enemy is my friend?” I turned towards her again. “Seems like in our line of work—we are in good company.”   
She smiled as we returned to the view. “Ya know, I haven’t had a friend in a long, long time, Alice.”  
“Misery loves company.”   
We both laughed and passed the bottle of gin between us. 

“Aye.” Someone shouted our way. We both turned over our shoulders to see Pearson, the camp cook. “If you two are done having a tea party—we need fresh meat for tonight’s stew if you want to eat.” Arthur stepped behind Pearson—his gaze boring into mine. “Arthur, take your stray out to pull her weight.” The old, fat, brute snorted and huffed off to the chuck wagon.   
“C’mon then.” Arthur turned and stalked off towards the hitch.


	6. Chapter 6

We rode into the valley below, silently, following the grazing pattern of the deer across the river. The water was cool on my legs, and sparkled in the noon day sun. I noted the sun’s position and turned back to Arthur as we strode onto land. “We’re not going to find anything this time of day. Deer and antelope will be bedded down until evening.”  
Arthur turned half way around in the saddle, “which is why we are goin’ to follow the river…the animals will come down to drink mid-day.”  
Okay. Insightful. I’d admit. I kicked Tucson and loped up to Arthur. His jaw was set tight as I studied him brazenly. His blue shirt was rolled up to his elbows, his grey neckerchief hiding just the little bit of his chest that would have been exposed. His strong, callused hands gripped the reins his body so natural in the saddle. “Can I fuckin’ help you?” He turned towards me.  
“I’m sorry for last night.” I said tilting my chin towards his arm.  
“Hmm? What? Oh, No its fine.” He grunted.  
“And—thank you.” I leaned towards him. “For last night as well.”  
“Oh umm,” He cleared his throat, “Don’t mention it…and I hate that snake Micah anyway.”  
I smiled and sat back in my saddle.  
“To be honest…I didn’t think you were going to take ole Dutch’s deal.”  
I laughed out loud. “You think I’m that prideful? Shit. I got in the bounty business to burry bad men…can’t do that if I’m cold and stiff now can I?”  
A small smile picked at the corner of his mouth, “Naw, I suppose not.”  
“Besides…then I wouldn’t be able to kill Micah Bell.”  
Arthur let out a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you say that—he’s a flighty one.”  
“And nothin’ like the rest of y’all.” I shook my head.  
“Oh sweetheart, you’ll need to get to know the rest of us a bit better.”  
“Don’t sweetheart me! I know the type of man that Micah is! I don’t need to see the rest of your god damn demons to tell the difference in men.”  
“Demons, huh?”  
“Certainly.”  
“And what of yours?”  
“My what?”  
“Demons.”  
I laughed. “Too many to count.”  
“Can’t believe that. You’re too damn young to have—”  
“Twenty-five is a perfectly fine age to have collected as my ghosts as I have.” I narrowed my eyes, my glare searing him.  
A crack of gunpowder rang and echoed off the canyon walls, the bullet striking the earth next to Arthur’s horse. “Ride!” He barked and kicked his horse. I kicked Tucson into a sprint tailing Arthur as bullets sang too close. “God damn O’Driscolls!” He growled ahead. Sadie’s story ebbed back to me. My heart beating with a rage for her—for our twin stories of loss. My jaw tightly set, I grabbed my pearl gripped pistol and turned in the saddle, firing at the first horseman in line, downing him. Arthur looked over his shoulder watching as I fired again and again into the men, sprays of crimson leaping into the air. Holstering my gun, I gripped the reins and gave Tucson a few whips to urge him faster—to get us out of harms way. “That’s it boy! Run!” I chanted to my horse. I pushed all the way up, beside Arthur as he pulled his revolver and emptied the chamber into any O’Driscoll that were closest. “Into the woods!” He yelled to me and turned his horse left into the forest, Tucson close behind his own mount.  
Thankfully the undergrowth didn’t trip Tucson, nor did low hanging branches take me out of the saddle, but Tucson, once being wild, took the forest route with ease. The shouts and hollers of the O’Driscoll Gang faded into the distance but we failed to stop until once on the other side of the rise of Diablo Ridge. Our horses balked and shook, a sheen of sweat gathered on their bodies. “That’s a good boy.” I said giving Tucson a pat on the neck while trying to catch my breath as well.  
“Fuckin’ bastards.” Spat Arthur.  
“It’s alright—they paid for it.”  
“How do you mean?”  
I smiled as I straightened in the saddle, “I took out two or three.”  
“Good. Better for us.”  
“We should look for game elsewhere. Nothings bound to be out after that commotion.”  
“We’ll backtrack up near Flatneck station—seen some game there not but three days ago.”  
I turned Tucson towards the direction and looked towards the sun in an opening in the canopy.  
“Sun’s getting low. How where provisions back at camp?”  
“Ah, Pearson’s always got a bitch ‘bout somethin’.”  
“We can trail up to Flatneck but by that time—sun’ll be down. We can make camp and hunt early mornin'?”  
“Sure.” He nodded as we turned our horses down the ridge.  
We said little as we lopped out to Flatneck. Finding a hidden spot among the trees, we moved to dismount when a fiery heat pierced through my leg . “Son of a bitch.” I hissed.  
“What?” Arthur asked as he off loaded his horse.  
“My leg.” Arthur dropped his bed roll and marched to me. A bullet wound in side of my thigh. My adrenaline had finally come down and it was ‘bout time I felt the pain. “Fuck!” I ground my teeth as Arthur half carried me to the camp spot. He set me on the ground and tried to get a good look at the wound.  
“Light’s fading. I gotta make a fire.”  
I reached up and pulled his neckerchief free, wrapping is around my leg tightly.  
“Do what you gotta.”  
Arthur was quick to lay out a bedroll and start the fire, pouring whiskey on it to speed it along. He set a knife in the fire and turned back towards me, lifting my small body compared to his in his arms, carrying me to the bedroll by the fire. I threw my hat off and ground my teeth as he set me down and inspected the bullet would.  
“Didn’t go straight through.”  
“Of fucking course not.” I laughed. Arthur’s touch was as hot as the bullet wound. Everywhere he touched—he sent my skin ablaze.  
“Pants are gonna hav’ta come off.” He said hesitating.  
“They sure are if I’m gonna get that god damn bullet out.” I ground my teeth.  
Arthur nodded and carefully and slowly unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them off my muscled legs. Blood poured from the wound and though the pain was great the touch of his hands on my bare legs felt—felt…He pulled the knife from the fire. My eyes widened and I searched the earth, finding a thick stick, I placed it between my teeth and nodded to Arthur. The red, hot knife pressed into my flesh. I screamed out, biting down on the stick with all my might as he dug around in my muscle and tissue for the stray bullet.  
“I know, I know. Just hang on.” Arthur said as he tried to extract the bullet. “There it is. Hold on! Don’t move! Here she comes.” I screamed louder as I felt the smooth bullet flick free of my leg. I sighed with relieve as I saw it was in one piece. This had been one of the luckier times I’d taken a bullet. One doesn’t bounty hunt for five years without taking a stray bullet or two. “Just hold on, not done yet.” Arthur took the stick from my mouth and put that bottle of whiskey to my lips. I drank hard, and placed the stick between my teeth once more as Arthur pour some whiskey onto the open wound. It stung like devil and I braced as Arthur placed the knife against the wound opening. I growled as my skin sizzled against the blade. After a few seconds it was over. Arthur was already rummaging around in his satchel, pulling a small tin from the bag.  
“A salve Charles made everyone.” Arthur explained as he dipped his fingers into the honey-like salve and gently ran his fingers over the wound. It instantly cooled the wound. My breath shook, as I wiped sweat from my brow. “Thank you, Arthur.”  
He rose his brows at me. “You had my back today, Alice. As far as I am concerned you are one of us.”  
“Good to hear.” I said flinching as I barley shifted my weight.  
I looked up and Arthur was still sitting above me, watching me.  
“I’ll be fine…taken a bullet before and I guarantee this won’t be the last.” I said moving to sit up.  
“You take a bullet in the leg and you’re ready to move right after?”  
“I may be a woman Arthur—but the world shaped me strong…stronger than most.”  
“I can set with that.” His eyes bore into mine, his palm still pressed into my wound. My legs bare in the firelight. My lips parted as his free hand tucked a tress of hair behind my hair. Night had fallen over the Heartland as I laid beside the flickering fire, reflected in the eyes of the outlaw above me.  
“You get yourself some rest, Alice.” He said getting to his feet. I smirked and rested my head onto the bedroll in the warmth of the fire as he draped a blanket over my naked legs.


	7. Chapter 7

We passed through the thicket that hid the camp, the air cool and brisk—kissing a rosy bloom on Arthur’s cheeks and nose. The little rays of sun that poured through the leaves peppered us with warmth in the shade below. I sucked the crisp air into my legs, holding it for a second—savoring its bite. “Oh good, you’re back.” Javier Escuella said by way of greeting, shaking out the match he just used to light the cigarette between his lips.   
“Yeah—welp, we got a little held up.” Arthur spoke, leaning on the wide horn of his saddle.   
“We’re just glad your back—most of us are hiding on the edge of the camp from Pearson and Miss Grimshaw’s squawking.”   
Arthur gave a husky laugh and straightened as the forest broke away to the outlook. We led the horses to the hitch—Pearson wasting no time to head our way—but not without taking note of the doe slung over Arthur’s horse, Tex. “We’ll its about time.” Pearson slapped his hands at his sides. “You know I have to feed everyone, right?”   
“Shut up, Pearson.” Arthur walked around his horse, lifting his hands up to me down. With a moment of hesitation, I swung my good leg over the horn of the saddle and placed my hands on top of his strong, broad shoulders. He was surprisingly gentle for how feral the man could be. “We got a little hung up.” He hoisted the doe onto his shoulder, blood running down the back of his jacket. I plucked the two pheasants from the saddle and followed Arthur to Pearson’s wagon.   
“You said you had trouble Arthur?” Dutch strode up, fat cigar in his fingers, Hosea close behind him.   
“Yeah—them O’Driscoll’s Boys…got the jump on the two of us.”  
“Sons a bitches.” Dutch’s face scrunched with utter distaste. “When are they going to learn.” He said each word deliberately.  
“That’s not all Dutch.” Dutch looked back to Arthur—his face between concern and anger. I set the ring neck pheasants down and limped back to the three men—others slowly moving in with the mention of the O’Driscoll Boys. “Alice here, she took a god damn bullet in the leg and still managed to drop three of em off their horses.” Dutch’s dark brows rose, pausing before taking a puff off the cigar to glance down at my leg—bandaged up with Arthur’s neckerchief. “She could have ran—used the gunfire to turn tail…but she stuck with me and even fought harder than most men under that kind of fire. We can trust her Dutch.”   
“It certainly seems we can.” Dutch smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, Hosea smiling in the background. “But this cannot go unpunished. What? Colm sends how many? Six? Eight men to kill the two of you? No.” Dutch shook his head, angrily puffing on his cigar as the gears turned in that cunning mind of his. “We have to take care of them?”   
“Yeah, but how, Dutch?” Arthur stepped forward. “Every time he loses a gun, another two cultus’ fools come to take their place!”   
“I think I know a way to get the law off our back some, as well as take care of some them O’Driscolls.” Eyes were on me now. I bit my bottom lip in anxious waiting.   
Dutch smiled around his cigar, “Well. Miss Alice Cassidy. Do tell.” 

The plan was simple. We would take the trouble further away from our territory, both of the law and of the O’Driscoll’s. I had noticed a few weeks past, the same group of men always riding together, wearing bits of green cloth as well as some of them being Irish, just southeast of Valentine. I would get them to stop and while they were distracted, our men would come up among the side and rear, guns pulled. From there we would bind them. The boys would wear their face covers and Sadie, Karen, and I would pose as the bounty hunters come to collect from the jail in Strawberry. Dutch and Hosea, being the most recognizable would wait on the hills above the road with rifles in case things went hairy. Arthur and John would escort us from a distance up to Strawberry’s limits and let us walk in our caught bandits for a reward of $100 per head, not as much as any one of Dutch’s men—but it was a fair pay for a nobody outlaw even if they did run under the O’Driscoll name. Besides—it paid us to give Colm a hard time sticking the law on him. As long as the men remained anonymous and us girls made a good show—they would never know the courtesy came from Van der Linde.   
Dutch loved it, and smiled ear to ear with excitement as the twelve of us headed for a place I knew they would pass by. “Getting paid to give old Colm the run around.” Dutch laughed to Hosea.   
“And focusing the law on them in turn.” Hosea chuckled with Dutch. I smirked from behind them, taking pride in the genius idea.   
Riding horses in a twelve-man pack was—well it felt damn good. To hear and feel the pounding of a dozen horses’ hooves. To feel the lightning between each one of us as we neared the thrill of having a gun pulled on us. The smell of horse filled my nose, and it made me smile…really smile. I took a glance over my shoulder towards Sadie and Karen, smiles on their faces as well. Sadie had begged me for the details when she had heard about the encounter Arthur and I had. I had told her that their blood sprayed like a fountain, that those who fell from their saddles, their bodies were crushed and trampled by the many horses behind them. She got a rush from it and was ready in a blink when I asked her to go on this job. She had different clothes on, forsaking the yellow dress at home—she was dressed as I was while Karen, well Karen wanted to gussy up…but we needed her play the part of a bounty hunter, not a duchess with a feather hat. She opted for a long skirt, ruffled shirt, and a jacket. I gave them a curt nod before turning back to the road, giving directions to the gang.   
Once at the section of road I had deemed worthy, I had the men split up between the right and left flank and the rear, while Dutch and Hosea got into place for a good show. Sadie hid behind the bush to my left with a long pistol and Karen behind the tree with her rifle. Glancing around I saw that we were ready, everyone was hushed and set in position. I tucked my revolver in my belt behind my back and tossed my gun belt to Sadie. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and gave my sleeves miss-matched rolls up my arms. Kneeling, I ran my hands through the mud on the road and smeared my shirt, arms, face, and pants. Anytime now…they would be coming through. As I glanced down the road, my eyes caught on two that watched me carefully from the shadow of a pine tree. Arthur’s eyes bore into mine, sucking in his bottom lip and giving me a small nod. I blinked in response and put my hands behind my back just over my gun as three men loped around the bend in the road—wearing deep green.


	8. Chapter 8

The O’Driscoll’s hooped and hollered as they rounded the bend, falling into silent, dangerous smiles at the sight of me. Their eyes undressed me—taking big notice in my partly open shirt, and in my clear helplessness. I hoped these boys would hang. “Oh thank God!” I cried and did my best impression of bird with broken wing. “Please! Can you fellas help me!”  
“What seems to be the matter ma’am?” The one in the middle licked his lips and leaned over his saddle.  
“I-I was kidnapped, but I managed to get away. Can you untie me and take me to Strawberry?”  
The men exchanged voracious glances which churned my stomach before the man in the middle, with a long scratch down his left eye, spoke. “No miss.”  
And even though it was an act…my stomach dropped and knotted, bile creeping up and burning my throat as I heard his next words. “I think we’re gonna leave you tied up.” His men laughed. “And we are going to put you to use.” He motioned for the two other boys to dismount and load me up. My stomach flipped as my rage blazed. With a sharp whistle from my lips, I pulled the gun in my waistband and had it cocked and aimed at the man in the center while they were flanked from the left and right and rear. Sadie and Karen came from the sides, guns aimed for their heads. “I don’t fucking think that’s going to work for me, gentlemen.” Our men laughed while I shared smirks with Sadie and Karen. The O’Driscolls’ throats bobbed as they dropped their guns and raised their hands. They were bound and tied and on our horse’s backs in minutes. The gang cracking a few quick jokes and praises before the majority rode back to camp leaving the five of us for transport. 

I tried to multitask as we road the rough mountain trails to Strawberry. Keeping an eye on the trees and the captive, as well as my ears on Arthur and John out of blatant curiosity of what they spoke of in hushed tones. I also had to keep Sadie calm—talking her out of first killing her captive, then out of all three. Rightfully, I believed they were more terrified of her than they were of me. She had a fury that hell would be jealous of. Karen—well she just talked my ear off about how excitin’ it was, aiming a gun at a man. “You should do it more often.” I spoke plainly. “It’s a great stress reliever.” I said with a smirk.  
“A great stress reliever would be if I got to castrate each one of these rapin’ bastards.” Sadie’s words were venomous, the men whimpering and crying that she’d please not.  
I rolled my eyes, “And we need to keep ‘em in one piece to collect a bounty that isn’t high priority. We castrate ‘em out here, they be likely to bleed out before they reach Strawberry, let alone the noose.”  
“Be real satisfyin’ though.” Sadie pouted, pulling her stormy glare from her captive back towards the road.  
“Just you ladies let me do the talkin’ once we’re in there. Don’t speak unless spoken too, and even then…be brief. The law out here knows me, but you two, they’ll have cause for questions.”  
We rode our horses at a quick pace, making it to Strawberry quick enough to go unnoticed by any other O’Driscoll’s that could have been patrolling the area or just plainly looking for trouble.  
We weren’t short of brazen looks as we road through town with the men on the backs of our horses, hitching in front of the Sheriff. Pain raked through my leg as I put pressure in my stirrup to dismount but gritted through it and pushed the O’Driscoll off my horse’s back. He fell to the ground hard, with a curse before I hauled the miserable sack of shit to his feet and paraded him to the door with the other two at my heels. I pushed through the sheriff’s door not knowing what to expect, what they’d say, or how’d they react.  
The Sheriff sat with his dusty boots up on his desk, his bushy white eyebrows and mustache curling up as his eyes fell on me. “Well, if it ain’t Alice Cassidy.”  
“If it ain’t me, Sheriff Macey.” Sadie and Karen followed in behind me, Macey sitting up and his deputies stepping aside at the sight of them.  
“Well—who are these miscreants?” Macey asked as I pushed my captive into the cell. Karen and Sadie pushing each of theirs into a cell as well. “Couple O’Driscoll Boys. Caught them out by Rigg’s station. Think they were fixin’ to rob a train.”  
“Hey, that ain’t true! She’s lyin’!” One cried from his cell.  
I rolled my eyes and handed the sheriff a folded paper, Karen and Sadie watching carefully like two students in school. “Train schedule I found in one of their pockets.”  
“That ain’t mine!” One growled from the cell.  
“Quiet!” I called over my shoulder. “Now Sheirff,” I redirected my attention to Macey who was examining the schedule—satisfied with my story. “I understand there are no active bids on these boys—but they are O’Driscoll’s, and even you know they been causin’ problems with good folk.”  
Macey nodded, taking note of the green cloth on their jackets. “Them and that Van der Linde Gang.” He waved a finger at me. A lump formed in my throat and I could feel the tension from Karen and Sadie. Macey’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “Now you bring in some of them boys and—”  
“Eh,” I waved my hand, cutting him off, “been hearin’ those boys scattered all across the states after, what was it…Blackwater!” I snapped my fingers. “These boys here,” I waved to the men in the cells behind me. “They fixin’ to make this land their territory…claimin’ poor homesteader’s livin’ for their own…and that train station…so close to Strawberry.” I shook my head in false disbelief.  
Macey was a good man…but an easily fooled man, just as much as his brainless deputies. He nodded and looked to the three men before turning back to me. “I give you $75 each.”  
I hissed, “Oh, Sheriff Macey…I was lookin’ to get $120 each.”  
“$120?!” Macey scoffed.  
I squinted, “Would you do $110?” Macey shook his head. I don’t get paid until the Marshal sees them hang.”  
“Sheriff,” I took my hat off, my ash blond waves cascading down my back. “We are trying to find better lives for ourselves,” I motioned to Karen and Sadie. Macey looked around me to get a better look at them. “Well, Miss Karen, here. She used to be a painted lady in Lemoyne until I found her.” I said gripping Karen’s shoulders. Karen shot me a nasty look, but I gave her one that said to keep her mouth shut.  
Macey rubbed his chin looking at the three of us. Probably feeling sentimental and sympathetic to our joint plight. “$100.” I pretended to look less disappointed at his generous offer and gripped his hand in shake.  
“Deal.” 

 

We rode back up the road towards where Arthur and John had been waiting for us, the dollar bills flipping through my fingers, counting and divvying up shares between the three of us and the gang.  
“Well where’s our share?” Arthur asked with a smirk as he pulled his horse up between Karen’s and mine.  
I stuffed my share of the bills into my pocket and leaned forward, flicking Arthur’s hat up. “You get your share out of what I put in the camp contribution box.”  
“Yeah it was Miss Alice’s idea.” Sadie chimed, chin up.  
“Wasn’t a big pay off, but it was worth it seeing those O’Driscoll’s squirm.” John laughed.  
“Woulda been better if I got to shoot the son’s a bitches.” Sadie huffed.  
“Trust me,” I rolled my head to her at my left, “you’ll get your moment to cull as many O’Driscoll’s as you want.” I reassured her.  
“Well, let’s get back.” John cut in, “Heard Dutch wanted to have a bit of a jamboree after sticking it to Colm.”  
I glanced to Arthur. He was close enough that our legs touched. His gaze burning a hole in me. “Race you there.” I simpered and gave Tucson a spur, Arthur hot at my heels. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters added. Hope you enjoy :)


	9. Chapter 9

Night had fallen by the time we reached camp, everyone hooting and howling to our party’s return, raising bottles of beer and jugs of moonshine. I smiled as I took in the little bonfires that dotted the campsite—laugher, song, and music filling the air and it—it was, beautiful. Karen giggled as she dismounted, barely tying Old Belle to the hitch, before scampering off. Abigail marched through camp, sights locked on John. We all gave him a sympathetic look. I liked Abigail—but this kind of life was not for women of her breeding, and you can’t blame people for whom they fell in love with.  
I motioned to dismount when Arthur appeared at my side once more, there to help me to my feet. I took his offer—I had to admit, I was ready for help and for more of Charles’ salve.  
“How’s the leg?” He asked as if he read my mind. He set me down, his eyes gazing into mine.  
My mouth moved, but the words hesitated to come out. His lingering touch on my hips was fire on my skin. “I—I mean it’s fine…good I mean.” I gave sheepish grin before slipping out of his touch. “I need a beer, I think.” I said scratching my head under my hat.  
A smile crossed Arthur Morgan’s face. “Well damnit, let’s get you one.”  
We strode to the camp’s main campfire as Javier picked up his guitar—three or so shouting song requests. My hands clasped around the cool brown glass of a beer at Pearson’s wagon and my soul sang a bit. Javier stroke up a tune—everyone singing along to a silly song. Beer sloshed and spilled but no one seemed to care—they were beautifully living in the moment. My heart leapt in my chest as Arthur’s hand clasped around mine and my unopened beer. Singing along with the others, he took my beer into his hand as he gripped his knife from his belt. Arthur slid the blade up the neck of the bottle, opening my beer with a satisfying pop, and handed it back to me—still singing along. I smirked, holding his gaze as I brought the bottle to my lips. I took a seat around the fire and watched the happiness that poured from these people. This family. For the first time in a long time—I felt, home. I joined in singing songs. Sharing beers and stories, and now suddenly I found I was sharing memories.  
After a few more songs, Dutch stepped forward. “We should celebrate successes—no matter how big or how small—they are successes for this family.” Dutch’s eyes turned to me. “Alice, would you please stand beside me?” He said, his voice soft. I swallowed hard and stood beside Dutch. “Alice has been with us not long and already she has taken initiative and taken care and interest in the Gang—in this family. She is most certainly one of us. Alice?” He turned to me. “That was one hell of a plan today.” The Gang clapped for me and I stilled my face with a smirk, “More where that came from, boys.” I said coolly, shouts of excitement bursting from all around me.  
“Please,” Dutch finished up, “Let’s continue with festivities.” He placed his cigar back between his lips and sauntered back to Miss Molly O’Shea. Javier thumbed the strings on his guitar sending a pulse through my body so, that I jogged to my tent to return with my mother’s fiddle. I sat beside Javier. Everyone started to holler as I brought my bow up. A giant smile crossed Javier’s face as I scratched those strings so perfectly. Between his guitar and my fiddle—we had people up and dancin’ and singin’. I stopped fiddling ever briefly enough to sing and when I returned to fiddlin’, the rest of the Gang chimed the verse. Uncle grabbed two spoons and started slappin’ them on his knees and hands and I pulled that bow hard and fast, as Javier picked at the strings on his old guitar. It felt good to play for someone other than myself—to bring joy rather than a flood of memories…it was what my mama would have wanted.  
After two more songs, I stood to grab another beer when I noticed Arthur away in the distance at the look-out’s campfire, focused on something in his lap. I grabbed a second beer and walked to him. I was quiet as to not disturb him so much, but he noticed me nearing. His journal was open in his lap, scrawled lines and scribbles marking the pages. He slammed the journal shut instantly, eyes fixing on mine, then the second beer in my hand. He smiled faintly and nodded to the log beside his.  
“What you doin’ so far from the party, cowboy?” I said handing him the beer.  
“Someone’s gotta take watch.” He drawled  
I nodded as I swigged on my beer, looking out into the forest beyond the flickering campfire. The scent of the smoldering wood mixed with Arthur's musk, of the dirt on his boots, of the long days riding, of the man he was.  
“I didn’t know you played.” Arthur thankfully cut my thought off  
I smiled faintly. “My mama taught me.” Arthur picked his head up, the fire again playing in those eyes—a wash of water and flame.  
“What happened?” He asked softly.  
I eyed him sharply. “What of your family? Hmm?”  
Arthur nodded and looked into the flickering flames. “I don’t remember my mother very much—the little things I can recall was that she was gentle, kind…she died when I was very young, but my father.” He shook his head in disdain, “Well that old bastard’s killin’ couldn’t come soon enough.” I bit my bottom lip. “Dutch and Hosea found me not long after…took me in...now here I am” His eyes turned back to me not expecting me to divulge but curious, patient.  
I swallowed, “They’re all dead.” I thought of my words and tried to think less of that night itself. “Bandits came in, put a bullet in daddy’s chest, slit my brother’s and mama’s throats as they…they forced.” I swallowed my rage down.  
“You don’t have to continue. I’ve been an outlaw for a long time, Alice…I can read between the lines.”  
I let a breath loose. “All for a few dollars and family antiques.” I shook my head. “I miss them every day.”  
“How old where you?”  
I turned, looking deep into those pools of blue. “I was sixteen. And after a few years, I got my revenge.” The fire crackled, embers leaping into the black. I looked into the flames and saw my each and every revenge kill. “I remember what it felt like to take each one of them out of this world…I remember the way I did it, the way they died, how their blood covered my hands or the dirt, how their faces felt the pain as their life blood left their bodies.” I looked to Arthur. “Sometimes, things like that never leave you.”  
He extended a large, calloused hand forward, placing it on my own. I flinched to his touch but didn’t pull away. “There’s a family for you here now, Alice.” His voice was husky, eyes half closed. Oh I, longed for him to kiss me.  
“Ain’t that cute.” His voice was nails on a chalkboard. Micah strode through the shadows in the trees. I stood up, my shoulders squaring instinctively. Arthur stood with me, only a half-step closer to Micah. “Oh, look who it is?” Arthur drawled. “Hey who let the simpleton out of the asylum—Oh! Is there an ugly contest you have to be at?”  
I couldn’t hold my laughter and it instantly rubbed Micah the wrong way. “Hey friend, at least I ain’t tryin’ to spend my time with no half bit hooker pretendin’ to bounty hunt.”  
My laughter ceased as anger heated my veins.  
“The fuck you just say?” Arthur growled.  
“I think you both heard me right.”  
“Aye, Micah.” I snarled, smashing my beer bottle on the log, and holding up a long, jagged piece of glass by the neck of the bottle. “We can solve our issues right here.”  
“Oh, you don’t want to do that, Alice.” He threatened.  
“It’s fuckin’ Miss Cassidy to you.” I smiled at Micah and for a moment I saw a hint of fear ease into his eyes. “You’re just Prey Micah Bell…I hunt men like you down…like animals. And once I get ahold of y’all, I don’t have qualms with skinning ya just the same.”  
“You two take things so god damn seriously.”  
“Get outta here you fuckin’ parasite.” I spat at Micha’s boot, still holding my shard of glass.  
With a grumble, Micah turned and stalked to the other edge of camp.  
I threw the bottle into the flame and turned back to Arthur. “I—I should get to bed.”  
“Sure.” Arthur nodded, looking to his boots. 

I made my rounds about the camp, clapping people on the back and saying my goodnights as I headed back for my tent, sharing a laugh with both Sadie and Karen before my retreat. This side of the camp was bit quieter and I took the time to gather my thoughts as the moon light poured down. The air was beginning to cool rapidly, creating a bite of gooseflesh along my arms and chest. A hand suddenly reached out and grasped my arm as I passed a tree on the edge of camp. I pulled my knife and turned to see—Arthur. His hand caught my wrist with the knife and he pulled me behind the tree with him, resting his back against the tree trunk. He looked into my eyes—through my eyes. Our breath created clouds between our faces, so close. His eyes searched mine as he leaned forward, stealing a kiss from me so gentle and delicate. Arthur paused after the quickly stolen kiss, his face still so close. My breath came shaking, as his hand slid to my jaw and pressed another kiss on my mouth, deeply drinking me in. My body was set on fire and the knife tipped from my fingers, falling to the grass. He pressed a hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, against his body as his mouth explored mine. My hands gripped his shoulders as his tongue dipped into my mouth, stealing a moan from me. I savored his warmth, my body pressed to his on the edge of camp as frost kissed the blades of grass. His hands cupped my ass, roved my rips, explored my back and waist. He was everywhere. His musky scent had me wanting more and his warmth—Arthur managed to pull his mouth away from mine long enough to kiss my throat and neck, lightly biting a trial to my shoulders. My core burned for him. He paused before going further—hesitating a moment. His mouth found mine again, placing a few more gentle kisses on my lips before pulling away from me, sliding a hand down my arm to my hand to the tip of my finger as he walked back tipping his hat. A crooked smirk played on his lips. “Goodnight, Miss Cassidy.” The outlaw sauntered away, breathing harder than he’d probably like to admit. I smiled, biting my bottom lip, trying to recall what exactly just happened. My heart pounded in my chest like a train on the tracks. Breathing heavily—I pulled my limp body back towards my tent for an absolute sleepless night.


	10. Chapter 10

A faint robin’s song woke me, my eyes slowly flitting open to the daylight that tried to filter through my canvas tent. I groaned as I slowly came alive for the day—stretching my sore and aching muscles. My leg hurt a bit less today, but it kept me reaching for the silver tin of salve Arthur had given me. I turned over to look at the slowly healing wound. Arthur was no doctor and the tissue would most certainly scar and pucker but, givin’ the limitations—he did the best he could. I massaged the salve into the wound, exhaling as I pushed through the burning sensation to feel the soothing cool of the salve.  
I felt Arthur’s phantom kiss on my lips. His teeth on my neck. I shook myself from my blankets and furs, tugging on pants and my boots and pulling a wool and denim jacket over my bare chest. I emerged from my tent with my tin cup—not bothering tying back my cascading ashen tresses. Miss Grimshaw scrunched her face at me as I closed in on the pitcher of coffee, her taking note to my apparent shirt lessness under my jacket.  
“Miss Grimshaw,” I started. “It’s too damn early for you to be givin’ me that sour of a face.” I sighed, pouring steaming coffee into my cup.  
She huffed, “A proper lady makes sure she is in place before entering public.”  
Dear lord. I had my jacket covering me—mostly buttoned. The tops of my breasts peeked out just as much as hers and the rest of her girls’ in their bodices.  
“Miss Grimshaw,” I spoke between sips. “if I wanted to run naked as a jaybird around camp—I would.”  
“That’d sure be a sight.”  
I looked over my shoulder. Arthur was eyeing me with a crooked smirk as he poured himself some coffee.  
“Mr. Morgan.” Grimshaw said curtly before striding away, fists balled at her sides.  
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Arthur, the two of us saying everything we needed to with coy glances as people stirred between us for their share of coffee. I watched as his eyes slid to the top of my bare chest—my breasts still full and high with the absence of children. Giving him a coy smile, I brushed past him slowly—making sure my hand ‘accidently’ brushed his thigh.  
Just as I was to return to my tent to prepare for the day, Javier tore into camp on Boaz. “They’re moving Sean! They’re moving him to the Federal Prison today!” He yelled out.  
Everyone moved in towards Javier—anxiety filling the air. Dutch strode out of his tent. “When they movin’ him, son?”  
“Trelawny said noon—bounty hunters guarding him.”  
Dutch set his jaw, his eyes forming a roiling darkness like gun smoke behind them. “Well boys, let’s bring back our dear Sean McGuire.” Yells erupted from the gang and the slow, steady morning turned into an angry hive of bees. I didn’t know who Sean was—only that he was important to the Gang—therefore me as well.  
I rushed to my tent and pulled on a shirt and my gun belt, grabbing my hat from the corner. Men were already mounting up—including Arthur when I moved to slip Tucson’s bridle and saddle on.  
“Whoa—just what do you think you’re doin’?” Arthur gripped Tucson’s reins.  
“I’m comin’ with y’all, jackass.” I stated.  
“No, you’re not going this time.” He spoke matter-of-factly.  
I glared at him, “Like hell I’m not!”  
“We’re dealin’ with the Pinkertons now and I don’t want—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard. “Its better the fewer of us go.”  
I stepped away from Tucson and Arthur, sliding the gun off my shoulder and nodded. Arthur gave a satisfied, crooked grin, “Good girl.” He chimed before kicking his horse in the sides after Javier and Charles. I waited until they just gone out of sight and marched back to the armory wagon—pulling out a rifle with a magnified sight and a box of bullets.  
“And just where are you goin’ with that?”  
I paused, turning slowly to Hosea. “To help.” I lifted my chin.  
“It’s mighty dangerous, Alice.”  
“That wasn’t the deal, Hosea. I need to be out there. I am a fighter! Put a gun in my hand and put me to work.”  
“Oh, Alice—you and I both know that’s not the only reason for you goin’ out there.” My throat bobbed, but he smiled faintly—enough that his eyes twinkled ever so slightly in the rising sun. “I haven’t seen him like this in a very long time.”  
Hosea was too smart for me to attempt playing dumb. “Like what?” I spoke plainly.  
“Content.” He smiled. I searched Hosea’s face—wondering what he would say as my heart pounded beneath my bones. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

 

Tucson and I rode hard over the land heading to the hills above Rigg’s station. We galloped through the dust, forest, and river, that horse being the closest thing I had to wings as we raced towards the men. I wouldn’t let any of them fall…I lost my family once—I wished to keep them together—at least for as long as possible. I yipped to my horse—urging him faster to the top of the hill, pulling him to a stop at the top of the rise. The sun was high above the prairies around Blackwater. I pulled the rifle from my shoulder up to my cheek. I searched through the scope—scanning for them—finally spotting them trotting their horses along the river Blackwater side. A lump formed in my throat. I knew all about the Pinkertons—the bastards putting men and women like me out of business…working in groups like wolves, that roved the plains around Blackwater.  
I scanned the area for Pinkertons through the scope—the four men seemed to be alone—following the bank down to the gorge. I slipped the gun onto my back and gave Tucson a kick, bolting down the hill like a bullet. They were moving up river—so I’d take a direct path to where they’d end up—cutting through the woods and over streams. Tucson’s breath came hard and fast, clearing fallen trees with mighty leaps. I stopped my horse before the crest of another hill in the direct path of the Gang and dismounted with my rifle, I could hear commotion—several men laughing and jeering. I crept to the top of the hill, avoiding sticks and loose rocks. I slid to my stomach, resting the gun on a log, and peered through the scope. I saw a man, tied with a sack over his head, lots of armed men, and the boys at the edge of the camp. I watched as they took positions behind cover and on their mark—started the assault. The men where exact—precise. I looked over the scope and watched Arthur striding forward, his colt revolver an extension of his body, his arms flexing with corded muscles as he pulled the trigger over and over—calmly and coolly striding over the downed men.  
Men suddenly shouted from other directions—reinforcements—closing in on the camp. I could see the stress in they boys below through my scope. I pushed the bolt action forward seeing a guard advance. I pulled the trigger, dropping the target. My boys below looked confused, glancing perplexed to the hillside. I peeked over the scope and waved from the hill before taking out two more—then reloading. We were coming back with Sean damnit, and no one was walking out alive. The barrage of gunfire echoed off the mountain sides long after the last shot was fired. The law would surly be on their way. I watched through the scope the men rush forward, freeing Sean and loading him on a horse. They were quick…exiting as quickly as they came in.  
I mounted Tucson and kicked him into a gallop towards the men, eventually catching up behind them. They pulled over along side of the Dakota catching a breath and laughing at me. “I thought I said you should stay at camp.” Arthur mused with a smile.  
“Yeah—aren’t you sorry bastards glad I didn’t?” Laughter filled the air. Sean slid off the back of the nag, his Irish accent going too quick to keep up with. After he had a moment to greet his brothers, he turned to me. “Well who is this then?”  
“This is Alice Cassidy.” Arthur introduced. “She just joined.”  
“Oye, jus’ joinin’ an’ already savin’ me arse. Thank ye kindly.” Sean shook my hand eagerly.  
“Nice to meet ya.” I nodded. “But I think we should be headin’ back.”  
“Yes, we should.” Charles agreed and stepped into Taima’s stirrup. 

I worked well with these men…this Gang. It was a home and a family that didn’t give up on each other, it was something that I had searched for, for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone for the tremendous out pour of support and feedback! <3 This is truly a great community and I am so happy to be a part of it :)  
> !!Be on the look out for the latest chapter tomorrow!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspiration from the song ‘I feel a sin comin’ on’ by the Pistol Annies

From the moment we pulled into camp with Sean, it had been non-stop drinks, music, and laughter. The stars twinkled across the night blanket as fires crackled and burned around the camp. The fresh, night air mixed with the scent of campfire had my heart singing. I had been drinking with the rest of them, catching playful glances from Arthur from a distance, and enjoying the company of everyone for the matter. It was the highest I’d seen them in their spirits and I offered to play the fiddle for some dance music. Together, Javier and I created a tune so rich it had Dutch and Miss O’Shea dancing. I watched as Sean and Karen joined in dance. She looked rightfully happy for his return—had me wondering if there was somethin’ between those two. I glanced up to see Arthur across the way, leaning against a tree, taking swings of his beer—meeting my gaze. The music woke a part of my soul that had been sleeping for a long while and it renewed my energy. Harder and faster I played…creating a grand swing. I played until my fingers were damn near raw and I had to take a break, lest me fingers start bleedin’.  
Poker was being played at one of the camp tables. Arthur, Lenny, Pearson, and Bill sat, cards in hand—joking and bluffing and calling one another out. I smiled and took a spot standing next to the table.  
“My—who’s winnin’?” I said placing my hands on my back.  
“No one yet.” Pearson spoke.  
“Everything can change in a single hand, Miss Cassidy…you may have the most poker chips on the table—but that don’t mean you’re walkin’ out with money.” Lenny joked, making the whole table laugh.  
“Hmm, never played poker.” I mused. The men all turned to me like I’d just committed an atrocious crime. “What?” I held my hands up.  
“Oh my, Miss Cassidy—you are missin’ out.” Lenny said throwing down two chips.  
“Looks like we gotta teach ya.” Arthur quickly threw his cards face down on the table to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me to his lap. His sudden public affection had me nervous, excited. The men didn’t look up from their cards—keeping the exact candor as they had before I neared their game. I could feel Arthur’s gentle breath on the tops of my breasts as he peer at his cards—making a larger wager. I studied the game—studied the cards on the table as well as his own and tried to make sense of it. Between hands, Arthur's fingers made slow circles on my thigh, being incredibly good at concealing that his hand was nearing the top of my thigh, hand by hand. It was hard to concentrate on anything let alone the game and trying to keep my face stone still as Arthur’s hand nearly reached between my legs. His face gave zero indication of his mischievous doings. I had an arm wrapped around Arthur’s shoulder as I sat in his lap, close enough to breathe in his scent, for him to look down my shirt with darting eyes. I tensed my arm as he at last reached the apex of my thighs. His fingers brushed me there. I coughed to keep a moan from escaping. The length in his pants swelled against my ass. I had to stand, I had to walk away. I was—he was—I needed a cold bath or for him to toss me into the Dakota.  
“Well gentlemen, it's been a pleasure learnin’ the game from y'all.” I said—my cheeks flushed.  
I didn’t turn to see Arthur’s face. I just knew I needed a walk or I wouldn’t make it through the night. Breathing heavily—I strode to the overlook leaning against the tree there. My hair blew on the gentle breeze, the waves finally unbound from plait or hat. It took a couple breaths of night air just to still my heart.  
“What’re you doin’ so far from the party?” Arthur appeared by my side, making me jump out of my skin.  
“Holy hell, Arthur! You tryin’ to give me a heart attack?!” I laughed, clutching my chest.  
“Well,” his crooked smile crossed his face, “maybe not in that particular manner of things.”  
“Oh, Arthur.” I smirked. “You’re a drunk fool.”  
His face stilled. “I ain’t drunk, Alice…but I am a fool.” My lips parted as he closed the distance between us. “Are you drunk, Alice?”  
“No.” I breathed.  
He smiled again, holding up a bottle of the finest brandy. He brought the bottle to his lips and swigged quickly before handing it to me. I smiled, echoing him, the brandy coating my throat. He stood there watching my eyes searching his. His hand slid through my hair, rounding back to my skull and pulling me towards him for a gentle kiss. The kiss was soft and sincere. His other hand pulled at my waist, pulled me against him. I kissed him back, but my lips were needing, and the kisses quickly turned into a rough back and forth tango. A tangle of tongues, of hands in hair. His touch trailed my jaw, my shoulder, arm, waist, until his hands found the top of my thighs once more. My breath hitched as he rubbed me over my pants. “You like that?” He whispered into my ear in his accent so rough, before setting his teeth in a gentle bite on the side of my throat. My fingers shook as they undid the top of my pants. I grabbed a hold of Arthur’s hand and slipped it into my pants. He tried to push down a sigh of pleasure as he felt me—felt the readiness of me. He slipped his fingers into me, one at a time, feeling me—watching my face as he pushed them into me. My nails dug into his shoulders—my body careening. He kissed me roughly, like it was the last thing he needed in this world—I’d never been kissed in such a way that made my heart soar and my core so molten. I moaned quietly into his mouth and pressed a leg against the swell in his pants. I smiled under his lips as my hand traced the outline of his member—watching him shiver at my touch.  
“Take me to your tent, Arthur Morgan.” I purred.  
“Of course, ma’am.” He smiled, his forehead resting on mine. He took his hands from my pants, buttoning me up and straightening my shirt for me before taking my hand and brazenly walking me through camp towards his tent. The party was still young, people still drinking and laughing even as dry thunder rolled in the distance—clouds black as tar drowning out the moonlight. Arthur pulled a pin and the sides of his tent rolled down into walls. He stood outside the flaps of his own tent, grinning ear to ear as I grabbed him by the neckerchief and tugged him in after me.  
Our lips crashed together as his calloused hands roved my body. I tried to quiet my moans—as he tried to still his breathing but the two of us tried in vain. I nearly popped all the buttons off his shirt trying to get it off of him. With his shirt open, I could see his muscled stomach and scars that peppered and flecked his skin. He watched me carefully touch a long, thick scar cutting from his ribs to his stomach. A knife wound. My fingers ran over another scar—a possible bullet. I looked back into his gaze of blue, his hand sliding into my hair, bringing my face to his again. He sloughed off his shirt and started on his gun belt as I undid my pants again. Thunder rolled again, closer now—the gang yelling with excitement. Arthur tore my shirt loose from my body, exposing my supple breasts. He paused to look at me as I stepped free of my pants. He too took in my mottling of scars here and there. I pulled him by the neckerchief he still wore until his body was bending against mine. My ass rested against his table as he kissed me roughly, taking my breasts into his hands. He kicked my knees a part so that his hand could explore me once more. His fingers slipped in and I struggled not to cry out as he stroked my sensitive walls. I longed to see what he was working with inside his pants and I lunged for his belt, pulling it free and dropping his pants. His length sprung free. He was large—but I could have guessed that from the start. His hand pulled from me and rubbed my essence over himself, taking long strokes. I reached forward and gripped him in my hand—drawing a moan from his lips as I stroked his velvet length.  
“Take me Arthur Morgan.” I pleaded. In a single movement he had scooped me up into his arms and had me on his cot. I savored his weight on top of me, almost as much as I took pleasure in his tongue wrapping around my nipple. My hands tangled in his dirty blond hair as he flicked and licked, kissed and bit. His lips ran to the top of my breast where he bit and sucked me into his mouth, leaving a purple patch of tender flesh behind. He smiled at his handy work before turning to my eyes, still smiling as he kissed me again and reached down to grip himself, directing his length to my opening. He ran himself across my essence and slipped his head into me. My legs clenched around his back as he embedded himself inside, one foot on the floor for balance. He filled me up completely, every inch of him made contact on me. I moaned out as he thrust himself into me, a thin sheen of sweat building on our bodies. He clamped his eyes shut as he growled out a curse, still fucking me.  
“holy shit, Arthur!” I yelled.  
“shh shh.” He grinned at me. A reminder that the walls were only canvas thick.  
I laughed and dug my nails into his shoulders as he moved his hips harder, faster. He sat upright, gripping one of my legs as he plunged deeper, his body a magnificent wonder. His muscles flexed and rolled under his skin as he pleasured us. He was so deep—deeper than any man had been within me. I bit my hand as my head rolled back, oh how I wanted to scream, and yell his name. I wanted him to hear his name.  
“Arthur Morgan.” I said nearly crying. His teeth nipped at my bare legs, his eyes lit with excitement. Thunder rolled again, clashing with the melody of Javier’s guitar by the campfire.  
“Do you want to come?” He growled, his accent drawing goose flesh across my skin.  
“Yes, Arthur!” I moaned.  
As he lifted both my legs up, he slid even deeper into me. I cried out, feeling the ecstasy burn a hole through me as my pleasure tore free. Thunder rolled. Arthur leaned forward and kissed my lips and rested his head in the crook of my neck, his hips pushing in and out at a pace that brought him moaning into the pillow behind my head. He hissed with relief as his seed spilled into me, his body shaking with aftershocks. He kissed me lightly on the mouth trailing the kisses to my nose and forehead before standing to wipe himself off with a rag. He lifted my leg and brought the rag up to clean the seed that spilled out of me. His legs were extremely muscled, forming into a perky, round ass. His chest still heaved from the pleasure that exploded from the two of us. He grabbed a few blankets from his wardrobe chest and draped them over me before climbing onto the cot next to me.  
It was sex like none I’d ever experienced. We smiled at each other, inches from each other’s faces. He kissed my lips once more before his eyelids fluttered with heaviness. He looped his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin, as his chest leveled out to a steady breath, sleep claiming the both of us.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for your patience! <3 Work has been heavy but it felt so good to be back at the keyboard!

My eyes gently fluttered open to a tent that was not my own. Arthur’s arms were still wound around me, creating a shell of warmth between himself and the wall of the tent. He snored softly in my ear, his breath tickling.  
Muffled voices sounded from the distance. “It’s nearly noon—where the hell is Arthur?” It was Dutch.  
“I think I have an idea.” Hosea said slyly.  
I wriggled uncomfortably behind the walls of the tent as if they could see clear as day. A couple of chuckles from the two. “Atta boy, Arthur.” Dutch laughed.  
I looked up to Arthur’s face. His scruff was scratchy and starting to fill out into a thicker beard. I gave a tender touch of my lips to his cheek. “Arthur?” I whispered. He grumbled and dug his face further into my hair. “Arthur. Wake up.”  
No response.  
Rolling my eyes with a smile, I gently pulled myself from his grasp, sitting up and pushing back my hair. My eyes caught the spilled contents of his satchel that he had dropped to the floor last night. I spotted his journal. Carefully, I leaned over him, plucking the journal from the ground and flipped to the marked page.  
Images of the forests and structures sketched in charcoal. A large buck made several appearances through the pages, one drinking water from a brook. Another looking at him head on. Another in the filtered sunlight of the woods. I smiled as I thumbed through the pages. My breath caught as I turned to the last page. It—It was me. Fiddle pressed under my chin, hair loose, a small smile on my face.  
I could hardly pull my gaze from this portrait while he sat up, wrapping his muscled arms around my middle. He rested his head in the space between my neck and shoulder, placing a tender kiss on my ear. He sighed into my ear. “See you been snoopin’.” His voice was gravely and thick. He smiled as I looked at my face in charcoal, his face scratching me cheek.  
“It’s beautiful, Arthur.”  
“Much less than the real thing.”  
My heart slammed against my chest and my eyes whirled to see him. I tilted my head back to kiss him. His kiss was deep, his hand grasping my chin to drink me in. His kiss broke all too quickly—but the day was already short due to sleepin’ in.  
“Com’on,” Arthur gave me a little pat on the ass. “Time to get up.”  
It was broad daylight when we both stepped out of his tent, my face flushing a bright rosy bloom. Stew was cooking over the small fire at Pearson’s wagon, the smell wafting on the light breeze that blew through camp on the warm June morning. Sadie, Karen, Tilly, and Mary Beth were gathered around the cook fire, sipping coffee.  
“Mornin’ girls.” I chimed scooping stew into a bowl.The women smiled behind their cups. “What?” I said with a mouthful.  
“How was it?” Sadie asked with a smirk.  
“What?”  
“Oh, Alice—Arthur! How was he?!” Tilly blurted out.  
“Tilly!” Mary Beth scolded and fanned herself with a hand.  
I scooped another spoonful into my mouth with a smirk.  
“Ohh, so it was that good!” Karen laughed.  
Arthur cleared his throat as sauntered up. “Ladies.” He nodded before serving himself some stew. He eyed me with a blazing glance, before nodding again to the rest of them and striding off. As soon as Arthur was out of earshot Mary Beth gripped my arm with surprising strength. “Oh my goodness! Alice!” She loudly whispered, the girls giggling.  
“It was—” I started with a smile, “Can somethin’ be both down right deplorable as well as heavenly?” I laughed and we all looked on to Arthur as he met with John by the hitch.  
“I’d say you’re lookin’ at it.” Karen smirked. 

 

I’d given Karen plenty of shit later for her and Sean, but here was a new job to focus for and hell if it weren’t crazy. My first train robbery. John and Arthur had gone to get the oil wagon for the railway stop and I waited anxiously. I was nervous. I’d made my face mask with remarkable slowness, my hands trembling with every cut from my knife. I was cashing in part of my values for something I longed for just as much as justice—family. We waited out in Dewberry Creek for the train—supposedly carrying a bunch of people from New York, west. Wealthy people. There were plenty of them as crooked as any outlaw…but to kill one of them without a bounty. I don’t think I could. After all I became a bounty hunter to bring justice…and here I was—fighting for the other army.  
The crickets and frogs sang as we waited for the train to pass through the country. I rested my back against a tree, face mask up, my repeater in my lap. I never felt nervous hunting bounties—but now, I was on the other side of the law and my hands shook on top of my rifle. I doubted myself. Doubted my position here, but the men—Dutch, they said they needed my aim. If I was lucky—I wouldn’t have to kill anyone…if I was really lucky, no one would die. Arthur squatted in front of me, placing his hand on my trembling fingers. His gaze calmed me. “You will be runnin’ point with me. That way you just watch for the law, you don’t have to kill anyone.”  
He understood what this job was meaning to me. That I was giving part of myself up.  
‘Just a small piece.’ I kept telling myself. ‘I will not hurt an innocent person tonight.’  
Face mask on, rifle in hand, Arthur stood and strode out of the woods. We could feel the ground trembled under our feet as the train bore down the tracks in the distance. Arthur climbed the tank of oil as we loaded bullets into our chambers and waited in the shadows of the woods.  
The train rounded the corner, smoke pouring out the top, breaks squealing as the giant beam of light fell on the oil wagon and Arthur. He pumped his lever action and stood his ground as the train slowly inched to a stop.  
“Go go go.” Charles pushed us out of the trees towards the train. Arthur leaped off the wagon, gun up. I hung back and watched Charles pull the conductor out of the front of the train and pummel him cold. Sean wouldn’t shut the fuck up. The entire time. I couldn’t focus. I’m almost certain, the folks on that train would have given away their souls just to hear him stop talking.  
Arthur’s sharp whistle caught my attention and he beckoned for me to follow behind John and Sean. “This way.” He spoke, his voice much lower. “Just stay behind me and shoot anyone that points a gun at you.” He spoke as he climbed into the first train car.  
Gasps erupted from the train as the passengers watch the masked men step into the car. Women clutched the men at their sides. Others fumbled through their pockets as quickly as possible. John held out a sack, telling people to empty their pockets. Cash, jewelry, valuables poured into the sack. One man with a stiff upper lip eyed John as he pushed the sack in front of him. “I’m not giving you a thing.” He proclaimed.  
I shook my head and looked to my boots for a moment. John turned to Arthur. “I’ll let you talk to my good friend here then. Arthur?”  
Arthur slammed the butt of his gun into the guys face. Blood poured from his brow, the woman to his side shrieking. “Just give them the god damn watch, Frank!” She cried as she removed her earrings and rings. The passenger, Frank, pulled out a platinum pocket watch and with regret dropped it into the sack. “That’s a good man.” John laughed and turned to the rest of the train. “Com’on people! The faster this bag is full, the faster we let you on your way.”  
I followed Arthur down the line, my hands gripping my gun with an iron clad grip. “Don’t look too long at one person.” Arthur spoke over his shoulder and waved me to keep close. I moved my eyes quickly between passengers, making sure I didn’t see the familiar glint of gunmetal.  
We were nearing the baggage cart. John hung back with the last car of passenger while Sean—still insistently talking walked further and further ahead of Arthur.  
“Sean, shut your god damn mouth and pay attention!” Arthur hissed.  
“Oh now, Morgan, jus lemme have a little fun, first robbery in a bit, aye.” Sean slid the baggage car door open and a man leapt forward, wrapping his arms around Sean. My eyes caught a flick of movement above the car. A guard moving on the roof. Arthur’s gun flew up as fast as mine, his bullet sailing through the air and into the man behind Sean. I pulled my trigger and with a flash of smoke—my bullet struck the man on the roof, sending him to the ground.  
The passengers started to panic and I could hear John’s voice fill with anxiety as he commanded everyone to sit down. Arthur fired his gun twice more into the car—taking out the remaining guards.  
“Whew, oh boy, Morgan, savin’ me life, once again, I could kiss ya.”  
“Its only because of your dumb ass you almost just ruined this whole job. Go keep watch you damn idiot.” Arthur barked at Sean. “Alice, you’re with me.”  
I followed him on his heels as we stepped over the dead guards and into the baggage car. I watched carefully as he knew the exact places to search. I glanced around finding a cabinet by the door and raided a few money clips and cigars from the shelves. I removed a few watches from the dead guards and some bill folds in a drawer.  
“You find anythin’?” Arthur called over his shoulder as he stuffed money into his pockets.  
“Yes. Let’s get out of here. Someone could have heard those shots.”  
Like clockwork, Sean’s nervous voice floated to the baggage car. “uh, Morgan?”  
Arthur shot up, stomping past me, rifle at the ready. He ducked with Sean behind a few crates, telling me to stay in the car. Two lights show in the distance…  
Arthur exchanged words with whom seemed to be a sheriff of Lemoyne. He was snarky as always, but I swallowed a lump in my throat when I saw more and more lights shine through the woods. I held my cross hairs up, exhaled, and waited. Arthur opened fire first, and I followed. Placing a bullet straight into the deputy’s chest. I clamped my eyes shut for a moment as I cocked my rifle and aimed again. Again, and again, bullets left my gun’s chamber. I stepped out of the car, Arthur’s voice shouting above the gunfire for me to get down. My gun rang out and a man fell out of his horse’s saddle. I aimed and another man down. Reloaded and aimed. Squeezing the trigger, a cloud of gun smoke, the smell of gunpowder. Then all was quiet.  
“Let’s get the hell outta here!” John scrambled off the train, Sean and Charles following, whistling for their horses. I called out for Tucson, but he didn’t come. Arthur was prepared to be the last on the train. He whistled for his horse, Sheridan, and he came thundering over the hill with the rest of the others. I whistled again and still, Tucson did not appear. The world tilted as gun shots in the distance rang out. Arthur’s hands where around my waist, a horse under me in seconds. Arthur leapt onto Sheridan behind me and gave his horse a strong smack on the rump. “Get!” He hissed out and we sped up with the others. We followed John on the train tracks and cut up a hill and across the plain, leaving the mounted posse in a cloud of dust. We all stopped together once we were safe.  
“Was that a set up?!” John ripped his face bandanna off.  
“Yeah, the law was quick to show up.” Charles spoke.  
A sharp horse’s whinny spooked all of us as Tucson galloped over the hill, his bridle, half off, carrying something in his saddle. Pistols flew up as Tucson came to a screeching halt, an O'Driscoll, dead in the saddle.  
“Should have fuckin’ known.” Arthur growled and hopped off Sheridan’s back, ripping the dead O'Driscoll out of the saddle. “Who thinks they own Valentine?”  
“God damn O'Driscolls,” John growled.  
“It was a real hit, but they knew we would take the bait, try to reverse Alice’s plan back onto us.” Arthur shook his head, re-adjusting Tucson’s bridle.  
“Why didn’t they take all our horses then?” Sean pointed out.  
“Sean take a look at the nag your ridin’, then take a look at Alice’s horse.”  
Tucson was nicer than all their horses, fastest of the group, I might even be able to beat Dutch and The Count in a race. “Whatever the case is, the O'Driscolls were part of this…we need to keep an eye out for them, gather more information on our hits before actin’.” Nods from everyone. “Everyone split up, don’t go straight back to camp.” Arthur threw each one their share of the take and in blink, they had taken off across the plains in separate directions, leaving just Arthur and I.  
“Perhaps you should ride with me,” He glanced down at my hands, white-knuckled on the reins. I had shot a lawman, several of them…I nodded and scooted back out of the saddle. Arthur stepped into the stirrup and set himself in the saddle in front of me, clicking for Tucson to follow, we started off across the plain at a shallow trot. My arms wrapped around Arthur as I thought about what I just did. They were lawmen, not bounties, not outlaws…oh God. I was an outlaw now, if I was found out…I’d be seeing my name and photo on the wanted posters instead of the newspaper. 'It was worth it', I told myself. 'I had a family now'. 'I wasn’t alone'.  
Arthur’s warm touch on my hands around his waist brought me back. I rested my cheek against his back, taking in his scent, his calming warmth as we loped across the Heartlands, stars glittering above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating this story once a week due to my work schedule. If I can squeeze in more chapters I absolutely will! THANK YOU FOR READING <3


	13. Chapter 13

He laid me down on the bedrolls in the camp we made next to the Heartland Overflow. His touch was like the fire that crackled and blazed next to us, keeping us warm while we laid naked under the night sky. His tongue swirled into my mouth, drinking me in, as his hands explored the rest of me. His finger tips spent time circling my peaked breasts. Fingers trailing down to my navel, his hand resting on the lower part of my stomach as he kissed me urgently, roughly. I moaned into his mouth while his breath came shaking before he dipped his fingers lower, massaging me at the top of my thighs. I threw my arms around his neck as he played with my bud, my thighs trembling. He kissed under my jaw with a husky laugh. He loved watching what he did to me. Loved watching my face as he pushed me closer to the edge. His teeth grazed my neck, my back bowing against him. Arthur’s mouth left a blazing trail of kisses down to my nipple, where is mouth closed around.  
I gasped, my back arching. His tongue rolled my nipple in his mouth, while is fingers plunged into me. I cried out as he found that one finger was simply not enough to sedate my hunger, and pushed another finger into me. I bucked against his hand. Arthur lifted his head up from my breast to torture me with a smoldering gaze. “You like that, baby girl?” He simpered.  
“Please.” I begged.  
He drew his fingers out of me, and he held my eyes as he put his fingers into his mouth. “You taste so god damn good.” I moaned out. I needed him, NOW. Gripping him by the jaw I pulled him forward, my lips clashing with his as he adjusted himself between my legs. A whippoorwill in the distance sang into the night with the frogs, the night air pleasant on my bare skin.  
Arthur was much less gentle now that we were out of camp. He plunged into me, making me arch my back immediately at how he filled me. “Son of a bitch!” I cried out as he thrusted into me, his hips rolling like white water rapids. I cursed again as he moved inside me, deeper, harder. I kissed him between breaths and curses.  
“Oh, Arthur!” I placed a hand on his chest, and he stopped thrusting immediately. My lips found his and I pushed up and rolled him to his back. I pinned his wrists to the bed roll as I adjusted to the new position and the new way he felt inside me. I sighed and moved my hips up and down, feeling his length slip in and out of me. Arthur rolled his head back and cursed out. “Jesus!” His eyes rolled back as I circled my hips. Hands still on his wrists, I guided his hands to my waist, where he was now able to take charge again. While I rolled my hips above him, he helped while thrusting inside of me. Sweat broke over our goose bumped skin, tied in a euphoric bliss that rocked us to our cores.  
A hunger flashed in Arthur’s eyes and in a split second, he had me off of him and on my stomach on the bed roll. I giggled as he kissed the length of my spine, down to my ass, his hands gripping my cheeks as he slid himself in. Ecstasy exploded behind my eyes as Arthur buried himself in me. Lifting my hips up higher, he pounded into me while one hand reached around to rub my bud. I panted and gasped, finally screaming out as a wake of pleasure took over me. I clamped my eyes shut as it ripped through me. But Arthur ceased to stop circling the apex of my thighs. I flinched and cried as he continued, still thrusting into me, until he had the both of us shuddering. He groaned as his seed spilled into me, our bodies still feeling the aftershocks of bliss.  
He laid next to me, pulling me closed to him next to the fire, my body languid while a triumphant smile wore on his face. His hands brushed my sweat sheen hair from my face and he kissed me tenderly, tiredly. He pulled back from his kiss, his deep, blue eyes searching mine. “Why oh why, are you with me?”  
“Who says I’m with you?” I raised a brow.  
Arthur gave me a crooked smirk. “Do you wanna be?”  
“I just tried killin’ ya a few weeks ago.” I laughed.  
“That you did. Maybe I need you to keep me on my toes.” He joked back. His face turned serious. “Listen, Alice,” His hands played with my hair once more as he searched for the words he wanted to use. “I know I ain’t a simple man… an, I know I ain’t good enough for you, and even though I’m a wanted man, Alice.” He paused. “It—its you that makes me want to be a better man.”  
We both went quiet and still as I searched his face. A happy, tender smile crossing my lips. “Keep being the better man, Arthur…always be the better man.”  
He kissed my forehead before pulling the blankets over us, our bodies close and warm. Arthur held me tight as if I was the only source of light left in the dark, and I held onto him like he was broken piece I had been searchin’ for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating this story once a week due to my work schedule. If I can squeeze in more chapters I absolutely will! THANK YOU FOR READING <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated Weekly**

Sun filtered through the trees as I moved slowly and surely through the woods, hands gripping the bow Charles had given for me to use. Charles let me lead the way through the woods, picking my way over twigs and brambles. He was a man of few words, so much so, that stalking with him through the woods hunting game was comparable to the amount he spoke at camp. The Oak woods not far from camp concealed deer and pronghorn, small critters and flocks of every kind of bird.   
Charles gave a high whistle like one of the birds that sat high in the trees above. I tilted my eyes ahead to see a buck, nosing the foliage, unaware that danger loomed in the shade. I looped my left index finger around the shaft of the arrow, steading my aim as I lifted my bow. The buck clipped the tall grasses as he grazed, his muscles shifting under his perfect tan hide. The animal was magnificent. I waited for the animal to move his left leg forward to expose his heart and lungs broadside. Soon enough, the buck took that dreadful step forward. Charles mewled like a doe, the buck shooting his head up and freezing. With a plunk of the bow string, the arrow whizzed through the air and found its mark.   
“A clean kill.” Charles said with an approving tone.   
I smiled, taking satisfaction with his approval.   
We loaded the buck on Tucson and led him back to camp, Charles again, not offering much for conversation.   
“I don’t know you too well, Charles.”   
“What is there to know?”   
“Well, you and I are part of the same family, there’s that.”   
He looked at me with eyes as black as the night sky. Deep eyes. Gentle yet ferocious eyes. With a sigh he told me of his mother and father and their tragic rift. My heart hurt for Charles, as it hurt for many of the Gang. We were all very similar, as much as some would like to deny it. He was a perfect mix of both his mother and father, I saw them both in him as he spoke fondly of his parents before he had gone one his own at thirteen. After he was done with his background, he spoke no more.   
“Thank you.” I told him.   
He picked his head up and gazed into my eyes. “For what?”   
“For your kindness.” I said earnestly. “That night, that I first came to the camp…you were one of the few that treated me with tenderness that even Arthur didn’t have for me then.”   
He thought on my words for a moment before speaking, the wind catching the white and brown eagle feather in his long hair. “Looking at you that night, I saw the pain in your eyes, just as I saw the lioness under your skin. I saw myself for a moment. I knew the world had not been kind to you.”   
I lost my breath for a second. He was able to see right though me from the beginning. Knew me with one look. “Thank you, Charles.” I breathed.   
A very small smile picked at the corner of his mouth, and just as quickly as I had seen it, it disappeared. “Say, where’s Arthur?”   
“Oh, he took young Jack down to the river to do some fishin’.”   
“That’s good, John’s not much of a father.” Charles shook his head.   
“I guess I don’t quite know him well enough.”   
“Him and Arthur have been at each other’s throats since I joined the Gang—bad blood there. Somethin’ about him runnin’ off on the Gang a while back.”   
“Really?”   
“I guess Abigail finally gave up on John to give Jack a childhood. It’s not Arthur’s responsibility…but I respect him for doing it.”   
I smiled. It wasn’t Arthur’s job as Lieutenant for the Gang to be playing nanny/daddy to a kid that weren’t his own…but he did without much guff. He loved that boy and watching the way he was with Jack made my heart swell. 

Back at camp, Charles was showing me tricks on how to skin a deer quicker than how I’d learned. I watched closely as he ran his freshly sharpened knife down the fragile, thin skin, the flesh tearing free as he cut with fine precision. Just as Charles was beginning the other side, Arthur appeared through the trees, Jack in tow. I stood smiling, but my smile faded when I took in the look that was on his face. Something was wrong.   
“Hey, Charles, I’ll be right back.”   
I strode across camp, the look on his face appearing more and more grave as I neared. I met him at the first few tents on the edge of camp, his gaze dodging between me and Dutch’s tent. His throat bobbed when his gaze settled on me.   
“What happened?” I asked, more so asking if he was alright.   
“Alice, sweetheart, I need to talk to Dutch right now.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head and brushed past me. A mix of emotions swirled inside me as I watched him eagerly make his way to Dutch. I stood back, but just within earshot of what he had to say.   
“We got a problem.” Arthur started.   
“What?” Dutch’s black brows arched as he set his book aside.   
“I just met some guys out near the river, a feller named Milton and…well I don’t remember the other fellers name.”   
“Ross.”   
“That’s it! Milton and Ross…”   
“And?” Dutch looked annoyed.   
“And, they are employees of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, Dutch! And they know about the train, and they know we’re here.”   
“Were you followed back here?” Dutch stood, squaring his shoulders at Arthur. I bristled as I watched from a distance. Bristled at the audacity of such a stupid question directed towards his ‘favorite son’.   
Arthur took a step back, “No! They know we’re near here, and they want you Dutch.” I watched as they stepped out from the shade of the tent. Now their conversation was open to any and all who were near. Arthur continued, placing a hand on his gun belt and lowering his voice. “They offered me my freedom in exchange for you, they did.”   
My stomach flipped at the sound of those words. Offered freedom…in exchange for Dutch’s head. So many thoughts reeled through my mind, I couldn’t keep them straight.   
“Why didn’t you take it?” Dutch countered.   
“Huh, very funny, but what do we do now, Dutch.” Arthur had brushed if off, but he didn’t see the look on Dutch’s face as he asked the edged question, the questioning of Arthur in his eyes, the accusations reeling through his mind.   
Dutch paused to compose his thoughts before saying, “We do nothing…they’re just trying to scare us into doing something stupid…into running out into the open. We just need to stay calm. I’ll come up with a plan, don’t worry my boy.” And that was it. Dutch sauntered away from Arthur, the look on his face telling about how worried he really was. Arthur turned to find me staring at him from the hitching posts. He strode to me, looping an arm around to hug my neck and planting a kiss on the top of my head.   
“How much of that did you hear?”   
“The whole damn thing.” I spoke.  
“We’re gonna be fine.” He spoke to me. Words just for us. The two of us.   
“I know.” 

***

A few days had passed and everything right and normal had managed to settle Arthur’s nerves as well as mine. A couple stage coach robberies here and there along with the train we had hit a few weeks back had bought us better food, more ammunition, and medicine; Arthur even placed a large sum in the box for some better lodgings for the whole camp!   
A shot rang out as a bullet tore through an empty tin can, throwing the can off the stump. Sadie dropped her aim with my smoking gun.   
“Good! That’s very good!” I praised as Sadie reloaded. Woman was becoming a damn fine quick draw. “Now this time, try to hit it twice before the can hits the ground.”   
She never complained, never fought back my teachings, and always wore a blood thirsty smile proud on her face. I reset the can. “I wanna hear it hit that tin twice, Sadie.” I stepped to her side as she took aim from our spot near camp. Her brows furrowed as she hovered her hand above her holster, fingers twitching with impatience for me to call it. She would be a killer someday…and poor man O’Driscoll would be meeting that rath of hers like it came from hell itself.   
“Draw!”   
She pulled the pistol faster than I’ve seen her, not wasting time pulling it up to shoulder height, but kept it low, at her waist. Her left hand was on the hammer quick as lightning, fanning my revolver twice like I’d taught her. Once, twice…both before the tin reached the grass, the ping off the tin music to our ears. I turned to Sadie, a proud, triumphant smile on her face as she holstered the gun.   
“Well, Miss Sadie Adler.” I turned to her smiling. “Colm better watch his back, the rat bastard.”   
She gave a near evil laugh as she handed me my gun back. “Him and all his god damn men…they all need to pay.”   
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “They will.” I said with deadly confidence. I saw the predator in her eyes as Charles saw it within me…she would be the end of the O’Driscoll Boys, even if it took her very last breath. We turned to walk back up the hill towards camp when she asked, “Arthur out workin’ again?”   
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Always up to no good.”   
Sadie laughed. “Yeah, but he’s a better man than most in this line of work.”   
I nodded because she was right. He did his best to avoid innocent casualties. He tried his best to live by Hosea’s law. He had told me that he thought of both Dutch and Hosea as fathers, but he looked up to Hosea more, for his wisdom and morals. I saw more of Hosea’s teaching in Arthur too, felt it in his words and actions.   
“Where’s he off to this time?” She inquired.   
“Eh, I think he’s off with John,” which had me worried “Dutch and Strauss are supposed to meet them in Valentine after they get the job done.”   
“Alright. Well, why don’t I sneak a bottle of that rum Pearson loves so much from the wagon, and we go have a mid-day siesta in the shade?” She arched a brow.   
I stopped us in our tracks and rested my hands on my hips. “Sadie Adler…that is the best damn idea you’ve had.” 

We giggled like school girls on the edge of camp with a bottle of run passed between us. Jokes and funny stories, but underneath it all, I still felt her pain pulsing. I took a swig and looked to her passing the bottle. “Sadie?” I asked. She looked at me from the corner of her eye while tipping up the bottle. “Tell me about Jake.” Her face went grave, but I expected that. I meant not to cause her pain, but to take interest in my friend and share in her strife.   
She looked out over the overlook, hand still on the bottle. “He was, uh,” She smiled looking out. “He was a good man, the very best. He was funny, and sweet, and he always got this twinkle in his eye right before tellin’ a joke.” She giggled a little, but then her eyes caught welling tears. “I miscarried four children…and he loved me so hard through it all.” My heart crashed around in my rib cage. The look on her face, the wobble in her voice. “He held me tight each time, keepin’ tellin’ me it was okay. The last time he told me it jus’ weren’t in God’s plan for us, and that he was fine with it.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve and took another swig, handing me the bottle after.   
“He sounded like he was a man that was a model for other men.”   
“He deserved so much more…”   
I gripped Sadie’s hand and looked her in the eye for a moment before lifting the bottle of rum in the air. “To Jake. May he rest in peace, and may he guide you to each O’Driscoll.” I took a swig, and passed the bottle, a big, humble smile on Sadie’s face.   
“To my, Jakey.” 

The sound of hooves tore through camp, shouts stirring up the camp.   
“Everyone, pack up now!” It was Dutch, John close behind him, Strauss on the back with a gunshot wound.  
“Dutch! What happened?!” Hosea strode up to Dutch and his ghostly white horse.  
“Leviticus Cornwall happened, and he is not happy with us. He’s here and he wants us dead.” Dutch turned to Pearson and Grimshaw, “Get everyone packing, now!”   
I scrambled to my feet and ran to Dutch. “Dutch, where’s Arthur?!”   
Dutch placed his hands on my shoulders, looking me square, “He’s fine, I saw him diverting the Pinkertons off the trail.”  
“Pinkertons!” I screamed, pulling away from Dutch’s grasp. I ran to Tucson, pulling his reins free of the hitch and stepped into the stirrup when Arthur roared through on his horse. “Oh my God! Arthur!” His hands where on my waist in an instant, helping me out of the saddle to the ground.   
“It’s alright, I’m fine.” He reassured me.  
“Damnit, Arthur!” I ground my teeth and smacked his chest. “Fixin’ to give me a heart attack!” I marched away both angry and relieved to his tent to start to pack up. As I threw things into the wagon, I heard Dutch asking Arthur and Charles to clear out an area out at Dewberry Creek and we’d all meet them out there shortly. Pinkertons. I knew bounty hunters and Pinkertons where very well paid, especially if a man like Cornwall is there to back them up—and this close to camp, this wasn’t good…they were goin’ to close in if we didn’t hurry. Camp was a frenzy, like an angry hive of bees got kicked. We were loaded and ready to head out faster than I’d given the Gang credit for doin’. As night was starting to fall, the caravan was rolling out of Horseshoe overlook and out to Dewberry Creek.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated Weekly**

And thus, the Gang was pushed south, further from the dream of the West. We found ourselves south of Dewberry Creek in the State of Lemoyne, a place known as Clemen’s Point. The camp was nice. It sat on the edge of Flat Iron Lake, with more than enough room for everyone, and well concealed behind the woods. We had gotten lucky, this time…we were pushed further from the West, and I feared the Pinkertons were beginning to close in. That was their way. I knew that well. And though, I was fearful for the future of the Gang, I tried to push that back while I was alone with Arthur.  
Arthur’s rough hands ran up my body from my stomach to cup my breasts as I sat on top of him, his length buried inside of me. Concealed within his tent, we were able to just be, even if it were for just a moment in time. His hands could both heal and bruise, and I savored their touch as they ran over my breasts, shoulders, my back, settling on my waist, gripping me as he thrusted into me. Sitting up, his mouth found my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth as my hips ground against him. He was beautiful sin. I moaned out as his teeth grazed my tender flesh. My fingers tangled in his hair, now long enough to need a cut. He groaned into my skin at the feel of my fingers twining through his hair. The way he held onto my body as we melded together, it was as if we were of the same skin. I tilted my head back and stifled a moan as I came, goosebumps covering my body.  
Arthur pulled away from my breast and caught and held my gaze. I watched as the outlaw licked his thumb and lowered his hand to my pearl, rubbing with a circular motion. My body bucked on top of his, noises I’d never made before coming from my mouth. A dirty, sly grin played on his face as he watched me whimper and convulse as I straddled him, his thumb never ceasing even as my body tried to tilt away from his blazing touch. I gripped his hair as my body shuddered again. Arthur watched with half closed eyes as I bit onto my bottom lip to keep from screaming out all the curses in the world.  
Sweat dripped from my body in this god damned heat of Lemoyne, and my body was spent. Arthur lifted me up and walked me to his table. With a hand he cleared the table in a sweep and laid my limp body down. Lifting my legs to his shoulders, he drove himself into me, rocking the table back and forth like we were bound to break it. “Take me, Arthur.” I was able to say only in a whisper. “However you wish.”  
Those words sent a visible shiver through him. He knew it was hard for me to relinquish total control, but for him, I gave him full control. He groaned as his hands clasped my legs harder. I gripped the sides of the table, ready for him. He drove into me hard and powerful. I yelped, which caused him to cease immediately. He looked to me concerned.  
“You alright?”  
I lowered my hand from my mouth, a smile on my face. “Yes, sorry.”  
Arthur laughed through his crooked smile and pushed back into me. It was a task to keep from screaming out.  
“Y’all keep it up in there, you be fixin’ to have a kid.” Lenny laughed from outside the tent.  
“Shut up, Lenny!” Arthur growled as he continued to thrust into me.  
I watched as his face turned from a focus into a bloom of bliss as he came into me with a groan.  
“Damnit.” Arthur hissed, his grip iron clad on my legs. After a moment, he pulled himself free of me, picking me up and setting me on his cot. I watched Arthur pull pants on and step out into the noon day sun. My breathing was still ragged, my thighs quaking, and my flower sore. Arthur returned with a pitcher of water and a rag. He wetted the rag and washed the sweat from my face. The short-tempered, impatient outlaw’s doting kindness continued to surprise me.  
“You rest here now for a bit, hm?”  
I nodded, eyes needing to flutter shut as he pulled on a shirt, the deputy star glimmering in the low light on his shirt. He clasped on his gun belt and with a last longing look at me, he left the tent.


End file.
